My Big Mistake
by Lexie Jayne
Summary: Jondy reflects on her relationship with a fellow X5.


**Title:** My Big Mistake

**Author:** Lexie Jayne

**Feedback:** is beloved.

**Pairing:** Jondy/Ben

**Word Count:** 1 437

**Rating:** PG

**Genre:** Angst, Romance, Drama.

**Summary:** Jondy reflects on her relationship with a fellow X5.

**Notes:** As of November 18, the content of this fic has been altered to comply with TOS, and my own change of alias. If you would like to read the original version of this fic, please visit Written-Word . Org

Inspired by Delta Goodrem's 'My Big Mistake'.

**Warnings:** None.

**Disclaimer:** Dark Angel belongs to James Cameron, and I make no profit from this fan-based venture.

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You know those insipid Pre-Pulse songs that go on and on about what a perfect state of affairs love is? How you feel complete and you live in bliss for the rest of your ultimately shortened life? Because we all know that the second you fall in love, your life expectancy is cut in half. The fates don't like to see people happy.

Now I look back and realise that we were too much the same for it to work out. But, he made me feel incredible. The way he looked at me, the way he made me feel and being together gave us both a point outside Manticore. I know he had a hard time with the others; they didn't see things his way.

Maybe it wasn't true love. It certainly didn't feel like true love. It felt . . . Incredible. Maybe he was my soul mate. Maybe it was my incredible loneliness that drew him to me. I was always like that, when I was a child, he used to tell me, that my isolation drew people to me.

Why else was he drawn into my bed?

Why else did I have a decent foster home?

Why else did I know where the others were? I wouldn't have been told if I wasn't so… Jondy-like.

We used to make love and he'd tell me how beautiful I was and how much he loved me. In the harsh light of day, he'd smack me around a bit and deny all the things he said.

I know I could've - and should've - stopped it, but sometimes that's what keeps the 'thing' real. That's what kept us real. His power over me kept us together longer, I suppose. It's easier to look back now and try and figure out how and why our relationship worked. But it did.

It was my fault. Demanding you give me that 'white picket fence' crap and some semblance of normalcy. Trying to get him to conform to my rules, my time and place. I didn't let him breathe. I didn't consider the others and what they'd think and how they'd feel. I think maybe they were scared of him. I know I was sometimes. Some days, he was so angry, so obsessed with Manticore and everything about it.

Some days, he used to hate me because I was nothing but Manticore filth, not a good solider. Some days, Manticore was the only thing that mattered to him.

I forced him to take me to the Prom. The most perfect night of my teenage life. I didn't expect him to show. I don't think he was planning on showing up. He looked incredible in a tux and he kept looking at me in my dress like he didn't believe I was the same person. I remember that dress… it was one of those Asian-inspired dress, pale blue with red and white flowers embroidered down one side. I stole it from some designer shop in San Francisco. I've only got a patch of it left, in my bag.

With his chain . . . The only thing of his I've got left. I'm worried Max will want it, she was closer to him than I was.

Just knowing I've got it, and if he wanted it, he could have it, makes me feel better. I know, because he's gone, he can't have it. It's like a security thing.

I hate that it is my fault he's gone. I remember that last night. It was horrible. Yelling and fighting and fucking and him throwing me into the wall. I remember sitting there, staring straight ahead, blankly, blood pouring down one side of my face,

I waited for him to kneel next to me, pull me into his arms and tell me he was sorry over and over again, to wipe the blood away with his hands and bury his face in my hair, promising me over and over again that he'd never hurt me again.

This time he didn't. He kept yelling at me and hitting me and I remember crying and begging him to leave me alone, to get out and to not kill me. Pleading and praying he wouldn't kill me.

He shoved me away and stared out of the window, muttering about the others under his breath. I managed to stand, trying to get the blood out of my eyes and my mouth. All I could taste was the blood. And I was crying so hard.

He yelled at me to shut up, soldiers don't cry, they don't show weakness. He wasn't weak, why did I have to be so weak. I just cried harder, sobbed - huge, racking sobbed that made my body shake and I hunched against the wall, as he grabbed my wrists, hissing at me and telling me something I can't remember. I think I blacked out.

I remember suddenly realising I was on the floor. There was blood in my eyes, in my nose and my mouth. I remember coughing and spitting it out, trying to breathe without that metallic taste in my mouth.

And he was gone.

I blame Tinga for putting the 'white picket fence' crap in my mind. It was an unattainable goal that I thought I wanted so badly. I didn't know what I wanted. I blame Ben for messing it up. We were too much the same, too unsure and too … I wasn't strong enough to love Ben.

I can sit here now, with Zane's arms around me, remembering how it was Zane I went to when Ben and I went completely and utterly wrong. It was Zane who picked me up out of the gutter and helped me get a life and he gave me everything.

I love Zane, I know I do. And I know I'm going to die young because of it. That's just the way it goes. We can sit here silently, remembering Ben, today, four years ago, he died by Max's hand. I hate her for killing him, but I'm relieved someone was strong enough to.

Zane knows there is a part of me that will belong to Ben - the happy times, no matter how few they are. But I can let go of the pain and suffering. I'm now a girl of twenty three and I've seen it all and more and I know that it wasn't my fault and it wasn't Ben's fault.

Maybe the Fates got bored and wanted to see something fun. Maybe they were teaching us both a lesson. Maybe Ben was trying to show me something, teach me something - maybe he was trying to help me, but I didn't understand.

I still don't understand.

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End file.
